


put it all on me

by kopycat_101



Series: Nathmarc November [11]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Banter, Bi Disaster Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Bisexual Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Boys In Love, Canon Jewish Character, Dorks, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Gay Disaster Marc Anciel, Gay Marc Anciel, Horny Teenagers, Kissing, M/M, Marc and Nath simp for each other and that's valid, Romance, Slash, Teenagers, Trans Nathaniel Kurtzberg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27510688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopycat_101/pseuds/kopycat_101
Summary: Nathaniel was going to put in some genuine effort in looking nice. Not to the nine yards and gussied up like he’s having his Bar Mitzvah again, of course. But he’s researched some fashion blogs last night, and put together an outfit.It’s not every day that one hits their six-month anniversary, after all. They were young, so they couldn’t exactly do much, but Nathaniel wanted the date to be nice and dress relatively nicely. He could get fancy later, during their one-year anniversary. Today, he was sticking to looking presentable and put-together.Did he also maybe want to impress his pretty boyfriend? Yes.
Relationships: Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg
Series: Nathmarc November [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994782
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	put it all on me

**Author's Note:**

> For Nathmarc November Day 11: Fashion
> 
> This fic is a low-key sequel to my past fic Dance, Dance (so good). You don't have to read that fic in order to understand anything that goes on in this one, but the events are mentioned by the characters.

* * *

Nathaniel knows absolutely fuck-all about fashion.

He’s an artist, yes. He can create characters with the basic principles of color theory and character design. But that doesn’t exactly equate to knowledge in fashion.

The artist looks up outfits sometimes for inspiration, of course. And he’d dabbled in fashion during a time, when he still had a crush on Marinette. But he personally doesn’t have a fashionable bone in his body.

Marc, though? Marc was fashionable. At least, his boyfriend had an aesthetic and sticks to it, which was more than Nathaniel could say for himself. All the redhead really cared about was if his clothes were clean and he layered things properly because of dysphoria and comfort.

Marc could literally wear _anything,_ and he’d look amazing. Nathaniel’s always in awe of his amazing boyfriend because of his many talents, which also included having natural beauty and photogenic looks, because Marc Anciel was the whole package.

Today, though, Nathaniel was going to put in some genuine effort in looking nice. Not to the nine yards and gussied up like he’s having his Bar Mitzvah again, of course. But he’s researched some fashion blogs last night, and put together an outfit.

It’s not every day that one hits their six-month anniversary, after all. They were young, so they couldn’t exactly do much, but Nathaniel wanted the date to be nice and dress relatively nicely. He could get fancy later, during their one-year anniversary. Today, he was sticking to looking presentable and put-together.

Did he also maybe want to impress his pretty boyfriend? Yes. Because Nathaniel craved validation. He can act a little vain over his looks, for once. As a treat.

The redhead surveys his outfit, laid out on his bed, with a critical eye. Nodding to himself, he begins to change.

Over his binder he shrugs on the oversized turtleneck that was his older sister’s. Nathaniel had nicked it last year for a cosplay. It was sleeveless because his sister’s biceps pretty much managed to rip the sleeves right off her arms, so she’d just cut them off and called it a day. The turtleneck was oversized on Nathaniel, but it made him feel cool instead of emasculated. Like, sleeveless turtlenecks on guys was always hot. Pairing that with ripped, black skinny jeans, and his black converse, and bam. Aesthetic outfit.

The artist adds a black wristband and some sunglasses. Then takes the sunglasses off, because he needs to do his makeup.

Poking his tongue out and carefully following the waterline of his eye with his eyeliner, staring back at himself in the mirror, Nathaniel tries not to stress about Marc’s reaction. And then stresses a little, which leads him to doing some subtle eyeshadow and adding mascara, and soon enough Nathaniel is staring down at his foundation and wondering if he should go the whole nine yards.

Except Marc says he likes Nathaniel’s freckles all the time, so foundation would be a bad idea, right? Right.

The redhead then fiddles with his hair, tongue poking out again. Emo bangs down, or pinned up? Or just pull his hair back in a ponytail? Double-checking the time on his phone, Nathaniel decides, fuck it. He’ll pin his bangs back for now.

He grabs his phone, shoves the sunglasses over his eyes, and then makes his way out of the house with his house keys, heart kicking into overdrive.

He may not be the most fashionable person, but…Nathaniel hopes Marc likes his outfit.

* * *

Nathaniel sits at a table of his and Marc’s favorite café, smiling awkwardly at the cooing waitress.

“Aw, it’s your anniversary? That’s so cute!” the aging woman giggles, patting Nathaniel on the shoulder. The redhead just about jumps out of his skin, feeling her hand on his bare shoulder. It was odd, not wearing a jacket, much less not wearing sleeves. The waitress leans in, voice conspiratory as she says, “That also explains why you look so nice today! Good job on your outfit, dear.”

“Th-thanks, Ms. Irma,” the redhead says bashfully, smiling and scratching at his warm cheek.

The woman’s eyes crinkle, crows feet emerging, grinning brightly as she looks across the café. “I think that’s your boy right now.”

Nathaniel blinks, hearing the chime of the front door. He leans around Ms. Irma, breath catching in his throat at the sight.

Marc strides towards them, footsteps confident and ankle boots clicking against the tile floor. He’s wearing a leather jacket, which is ridiculously hot. Plus a black turtleneck and black skinny jeans, his usual choker replaced with a silver necklace. His eyes are rimmed with green eyeshadow and lips painted with green lipstick, both matching his emerald eyes.

Overall, Marc looks amazing, and Nathaniel feels his soul ascending.

Nathaniel gets out of his chair, almost in a daze, the waitress already giving him room to leave the table. He goes to grab at the other’s hands and kiss his boyfriend on the cheek. “You look _incredible_ ,” he breathes, lovestruck and not caring to hide it.

Marc’s emerald eyes gleam, as they take a long look up and down Nathaniel’s body. The redhead finds himself straightening a bit under the assessment.

“So do you,” Marc states, voice quiet but full of conviction. He raises one of their linked hands to kiss Nathaniel’s knuckles. “Absolutely and undeniably handsome.” Nathaniel finds his face burning from the compliment, his heart soaring from his boyfriend validating him and confirming his gender identity in one.

Marc leads a definitely swooning Nathaniel back to their table. Ms. Irma simply stands to the side, waiting, grinning widely at them.

“You want the usual, boys, or you want something special for today?” she asks, taking a pen from her apron pocket and tapping it against her notepad.

“Let’s change things up, shall we?” Marc asks, grinning at Nathaniel crookedly. Nathaniel, like the complete simp he is, instantly nods along with a little dreamy sigh. But can anyone really blame him? Confidence was a good look on Marc, and his boyfriend looked _delectable_ on top of it.

“I think I’ll take my usual drink, though,” Marc says nudging Nathaniel gently, the tip of his boot pressing against Nathaniel’s calf. “You?”

“S-Same,” Nathaniel nods, biting his lip to keep down a sudden giggle.

* * *

The teenagers peruse the menu, their waitress leaving them to fill their drink orders.

Nathaniel tries to look through the menu. Really, he does. But his gaze keeps wandering, looking up from the words and pictures to his boyfriend surveying the laminated pages with an intent look. Marc looked like anyone’s dream boy right now. Or maybe just Nathaniel’s dream boy. Having a sexuality crisis over men wearing black and leather, and being a fan of punk and emo music, it honestly makes sense why he’s so gaga over his boyfriend.

Marc glances up, locking eyes with him, catching Nathaniel blatantly staring at him. And then the writer gives a private little smile, before looking back down at the menu, tanned cheeks turning pink.

God, Nathaniel was so lucky. He’s got such a sweet and cute and talented and beautiful boyfriend. He wants to shout it from the rooftops, across the Parisian skyline, too. Something like ‘ _My boyfriend Marc Anciel is the most amazing boyfriend in the entirety of France_ ’.

The artist smiles into his menu, finally picking something out. They had nice vegetarian options here, which is why Nathaniel really liked this café so much, so he never had to stick to just one item. He did anyways from habit, but having options was always nice, especially since not many places had Kosher things in mind.

After a few minutes, Ms. Irma takes their orders and grabs their menus. “We’ll get your order out as quick as we can, boys,” she says with a smile on her painted lips.

“Thank you, Ms. Irma,” Marc says with a charming smile at the woman.

“Thank you,” Nathaniel nods, his eyes quickly going back to Marc, as if the other was magnetized.

When the waitress leaves, Marc leans back in his seat. And he surveys Nathaniel again, eyes roving across his face. Then trailing down his neck, eyes lingering for a long few seconds on Nathaniel’s bare arms crossed on top of the table, before going back to Nathaniel’s eyes.

The redhead feels his confidence spike at his boyfriend liking his makeup and _very obviously_ enjoying his outfit. “Like what you see…?” he asks a little teasingly, making sure to smirk back.

Marc laughs, threading a hand through his messy hair, his cheeks pink. “I-I mean, not to be shallow, but. Yes. Very much.”

“Like anything in particular…?” he leans forwards, trying to go sultry and give his boyfriend bedroom eyes. Is he laying it on thick? Yeah. But he feels sexy as hell with the way Marc’s drinking him in with his gaze.

Marc’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, Nathaniel’s eye riveted by the movement. “A sleeveless turtleneck is a good look on you.”

And that shoots both validation and serotonin straight into Nathaniel’s veins.

“Well, your leather jacket’s always a good look on you,” the redhead shoots back, propping his chin on his hand and smirking back. “Very punk. Very sexy.”

Marc chuckles, fiddling with his necklace and darting his eyes away shyly, cheeks a deep pink. Nathaniel, despite his complete and utter thirst, finds fondness welling up for his adorable boyfriend.

Despite the tough way he dressed, Marc was still a sweet and sensitive person. The writer was shy and unable to really take compliments at the best of times. Despite how they’ve been dating for months now, compliments from Nathaniel still gets the poor guy flustered.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” the artist says, trying not to giggle, and only partially succeeding.

“I-I’m less embarrassed and more…flattered,” the other says, with a bashful little laugh, finally darting his gaze to look at Nathaniel. “You…Y-You really think I’m…sexy?”

“Marc, I don’t know how to tell you this,” Nathaniel starts, dead serious, “But you’re the most gorgeous boy I know. And when you wear your leather jacket? I pretty much start drooling on the spot.”

The raven-haired boy blinks back at him, stunned, emerald eyes wide and emerald-painted lips parted in an ‘o’. And then he laughs, a bright and flattered sound, rubbing at one of his rapidly reddening cheeks, leather fingerless gloves stark against his skin.

“W-Well…Well, now I know what to wear for special occasions, then,” the flustered boy says, voice teasing and smile crooked. “If I’d known earlier…”

“If you wore your leather jacket earlier, I would’ve literally _died_ ,” Nathaniel snorts, finding himself cracking up. “Geeze, Marc! The first time I saw you in it was the school dance, and that was honestly the best moment possible.”

Marc laughs along. “I guess so…! It ended with us getting together in the first place, so…”

“So it was the perfect time,” the artist smirks back. “Any earlier and I might’ve gone catatonic.”

The writer giggles. “Or died from dehydration.”

“Wow. Calling me out for my thirst?”

“It was a joke on you drooling so much, but sure. Take your pick.”

Nathaniel pouts back at his boyfriend, who was just giving him a beatific smile. “I didn’t come here to be attacked, Marc.”

“You did it perfectly to yourself anyways, without me even needing to do much,” Marc chirps.

“Betrayal. I dedicate my life to being a bisexual, and _this_ is the thanks I get? I’m breaking up with you.”

Marc laughs, covering his mouth with a hand. “N-Nath…Nath, no.”

“Nath, _yes_. One-hundred percent, I’m breaking up with you. How dare you snipe me for thinking you’re hot.”

The two would have bantered more, if not for their waitress appearing, plates in her hands and eyebrows raised to her hairline. “Now, don’t go breaking up so soon, boys. You haven’t even eaten your food yet!” the woman chides, light and airy and obviously trying to play along.

“Thank you, Ms. Irma,” Nathaniel sighs dramatically, placing the back of his hand against his forehead. “Maybe this food will wash the pain of betrayal away from my love.”

The woman laughs, and Marc snorts, the redhead grinning back at them.

“Well, the food _does_ look great. We might as well dig in,” the writer says lightly.

“Alright, boys, enjoy! Just tell me if you need anything.”

“Uh, Ms. Irma? Sorry, but uh. I think you gave us something from another table,” Marc says, eyes darting down to a plate with a strawberry cheesecake slice that the two teens definitely hadn’t ordered.

Their waitress simply smiles back at them. “On the house, boys. Happy anniversary!” With a wink and a wave, the woman bustles away, leaving the two teens blinking in shock.

“Oh wow…That was super nice of her!” Nathaniel finds himself gushing, excited at the prospect of dessert, and a _free_ one at that. He hadn’t ordered one in case he was too full from their meal, but now that solved his internal debate.

“It was,” Marc says warmly, with an even warmer smile shot over at the kitchen, where their waitress was disappearing into. “Ms. Irma is very sweet.”

“We should tip her extra for this,” Nathaniel nods, enthusiastically biting into his sandwich. “She'sh da besh.”

Marc pulls a face at him, exaggerated in its disgust. “Nath, c’mon, don’t be like Kim or Alix. Chew your food before you talk.”

The artist quickly does so, chewing and swallowing his bite down, before saying “Wooooow, way to snipe me again, babe. First calling me out for thirsting, now saying I’m like Kim and Alix? Harsh.”

“You only brought that on yourself,” Marc says, purposefully spearing a piece of broccoli with his fork and pointing it at Nathaniel. “In both cases, actually.”

“Oof. Right in the heart, Marc, right in the heart. I can’t believe you’ve done this.”

* * *

The two banter and chat as they eat, playful and much sappier than usual as they flirt.

Nathaniel finds his eyes lingering on Marc’s shoulders looking broader in that leather jacket, and the leather jacket in general, and the sliver of Marc’s neck not covered by his own turtleneck, and the graceful way Marc ate his food to minimize his lipstick smudging. Marc’s eyes linger on Nathaniel’s uncovered eye, and the curve of his jaw, and Nathaniel’s bare arms and shoulders.

They don’t shy away from nudging their feet together under the table, Nathaniel getting bolder and bolder in his attempts to get Marc flustered, running his ankle against the other’s calf. Marc’s cheeks go pink, but he stubbornly doesn’t look under the table, even once crossing his legs over the other and _accidentally_ running the tip of his boot over Nathaniel’s knees. Nathaniel feels his face burn, because that sure as hell didn’t feel accidental, or even very innocent; but maybe that was the thirst talking.

In retaliation, Nathaniel makes a production when they share their dessert, slow as he wraps his lips around the fork and groaning his appreciation for how delicious the cheesecake is. And if he smirks as he licks at his fork when he’s done, his boyfriend very purposefully doesn’t comment on it.

By the time they’re ready to pay their check, Nathaniel is riled up and thirsty enough to chug three more glasses of water. Marc looks seemingly affected, if the way his eyes keep darting to Nathaniel’s lips and trailing over his torso are anything to go by.

The boys both leave Ms. Irma a nice tip, before they’re exiting the café, hand-in-hand with the woman giggling after them to have a good night.

* * *

The air is pleasantly cool against Nathaniel’s heated skin, when they exit.

“Let me walk you home,” Marc says in a low voice, rubbing his thumb against the back of Nathaniel’s hand and gently tugging them along.

It’s not night yet, but the sky is turning orange from the sunset. It’s beautiful, the way it paints the buildings golden and softens the look of Marc’s leather jacket.

Nathaniel’s skin buzzes, as they walk. He knows Marc is going to do more than just give Nathaniel his usual simple goodnight kiss after their dates. They’re definitely going to make out, and it’s going to be hot, he can already tell.

“You know…it’s a little ironic.”

“What is?” Nathaniel asks, almost shivering from the cool air and the way Marc’s voice lowers.

“The fact that we’re wearing almost the same outfit for our anniversary date.”

The artist blinks back at the writer, confused. He must look it, too, with the way Marc laughs.

With a crooked grin, the raven-haired boy takes the collar of his leather jacket with his unoccupied hand, and shrugs down his jacket a bit, and oh. Nathaniel’s eyes are riveted by the two inches of bare skin, where the other’s turtleneck sleeves should be.

“Yeah, I ended up wearing a sleeveless turtleneck too,” Marc states, laughing a bit. “It’s like we both did this on purpose.”

“Well, other than our shoes and your leather jacket…Yeah. Wow,” he finds himself laughing, shaking his head. “That really is a coincidence!”

“It is…” Marc hums, the two walking for a minute in comfortable silence before he adds, “I still think it looks better on you.”

“Bullshit. You look hot in anything, _especially_ a sleeveless turtleneck,” Nathaniel finds himself retorting.

“Honestly, _anyone_ can look hot in a sleeveless turtleneck.”

“That’s the point, and the truth,” the redhead smirks back. “And my bisexual ass wins either way.”

Marc laughs, throwing his head back as he does. Nathaniel’s heart squeezes, seeing the other’s unfiltered and loud laughter, the amount of sheer joy and fondness in the sound. “You know…I kind of want to make a joke, but…”

“Oh? What kind of joke?” the redhead asks his boyfriend, nudging him. “C’mon, don’t be shy.”

Marc just hums, before finally acquiescing with, “I was going to say that since we’re both wearing the same outfit, _someone_ has to change…”

The blood in Nathaniel’s veins goes hot, and he realizes that they’re standing in front of his home’s front door already. Marc is grinning and gazing at him with total bedroom eyes, the contrast between the other’s teasing and light tone with his attempts at seduction only making it somehow even more attractive.

Nathaniel decides in that very second that he wants both that jacket and that turtleneck off of Marc. So he grabs the other by the lapels of his jacket and hauls him in for a kiss, a clash of teeth and tongue and heat, licking into Marc’s mouth.

“I think we can arrange that,” he whispers against the other’s lips when they part, both panting for breath.

Marc licks his lips, emerald lipstick smudged and glistening with spit, emerald pupils blown wide. “Can’t wait,” he murmurs lowly, the sound shooting heat straight to the artist’s gut, igniting him like a bonfire.

And then Nathaniel was opening the door and dragging Marc inside, glad that his parents were off visiting his grandparents today, because Nathaniel was going to be _very_ _much_ busy celebrating his anniversary with his boyfriend. And very thoroughly, at that.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to the song Fashion by Lady Gaga while writing. Not “Fashion!” from ArtPop, but the 2009 song from Confessions of a Shopaholic. Yes, I have to distinguish them, because those two songs are completely different. The title comes from that song.
> 
> The ending is open-ended. You get to fill in the blanks of what happened next.
> 
> Nathaniel’s outfit is partially based on: https://cdn.alysonhaley.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/31185036/topshopknitsleevelesstanktopshopdistresseddenimskinnyjeanscelinesquaresunglassesblackcelinetotebaublebarstatementearrings14.jpg
> 
> Marc’s outfit is based on: https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2020/01/12/01/23287402-7877595-Full_body_She_rounded_out_her_ensemble_by_styling_her_brown_tres-a-56_1578792124316.jpg


End file.
